Sometimes I don’t feel strong. Other times it’s even worse, and I feel weak … exhausted … lost. We’re taught that only the strong survive. To put on a brave face and soldier on. But what happens when I can’t soldier anymore? When my arms aren’t strong enough for the task, and my heart can barely hold on to the last strands of hope?
Jared and I drifted apart in the months after Dillon was born. It wasn't a subtle drifting, like rowboats that slipped their knots and meandered off to sea in the quiet of night. We saw it. Felt it. Watched it happen. Each of us in a boat without paddles, our cupped hands pawing furiously at the water. Calling out with loud voices until exhaustion took over. Our commitment to one another and to our marriage didn't waiver. But our connection did.
Sitting in my worn white Ikea chair, pulled up to my cluttered Ikea desk—yes, Craigslist and Ikea furnish my house—the surroundings taunt me. The taunting comes not from all the things left to do, but because all these things bring me joy ... well, once brought me joy ... and I want them to again. I'd like to blame the clutter on recent travels, exciting projects, or even my adventurous toddler, but that wouldn't be true. Or fair.
Grace: unmerited favor. To give good that is not deserved. We need grace everyday. And then, there are days like today, that could benefit from a double helping. The funny thing is, I'm so much better at giving grace to others than I am giving it to myself.
For years my husband and I wanted to conceive, but couldn't. If you find your chest beating with mother's heart, yet there's no child to snuggle in your embrace, this post is for you.
I have all these pent-up concerns about motherhood locked away. Piled, stuffed, and thrown behind closed bedroom/closet/pantry doors so I can pretend they're not there—like that five minute cleaning job when you realize someone's about to come over.
"If you hold your breath for the whole time in a tunnel you can make a wish and it will come true." I don't know where the idea came from, probably some game we made up during a long car ride. But from that point on, every tunnel offered wish fulfillment ... if we could make it through the darkness without oxygen.